“You betrayed us, Brittany. You sent daddy Forrest to the school to drag my boys out in handcuffs, even though we’d fulfilled the end of our bargain. You were the one that failed to pay, and we were owed our pound of flesh.” I take a second iced tea out of the fridge before moving over to stand in front of her. The top makes a gentle popping sound as I twist it off and Brittany jumps like a startled deer. “So this is us, collecting on our debt. You are not to see Hael or speak to Hael. If you pass him in public, you will keep walking and you will think about how cheating on him royally fucked your life up in so many ways.”

I take a sip of my drink as Brittany squeezes her eyes shut, salty tears escaping to run down her cheeks.

“The reason you are lucky is this: Hael is a genuinely good and wonderful human being. Even though you would’ve deserved having us take bolt cutters to your pretty fingers”—Brittany makes a choking sound and I wonder if she isn’t putting together Vaughn’s accident with the words I just said—“Hael doesn’t like to see women suffer. Actually, he can’t stand it. So instead of physical pain, I’m leaving you with the emotional scar of knowing that you had him for a short while and you screwed that up.”

Of course, knowing Hael as I do now, and knowing that the two of us are inextricably entwined, that we both belong to Havoc first and foremost, I’m aware that Brittany never could’ve had Hael to begin with. If she hadn’t cheated on him, then he would’ve broken up with her when I called Havoc and became a Havoc Girl for real.

Still, Brittany broke her deal with us and so this is what she deserves, the loss of a beautiful and poignant possibility, one that would’ve changed her life for the better. Despite everything, I do honestly believe she was in love with Hael Harbin.

“You lost Hael to me through your own, ugly actions, and now here you are, covered in fresh scars and with the daunting task of starting all over again with a new baby daddy.” The edge of my lip quirks up in an almost-smile. A devil’s smile. The smile of tricksters and mischief-makers and Havoc wreakers. “You’re also not fully off the hook just yet.”

Brittany lets out another hiccupping sob, eyelids still firmly squeezed shut, arms still clutching the monitor to her chest.

I take the card from the bouquet of flowers, the one that says We’ll be in touch with soft, feminine letters, letters that I wrote while thinking of Penelope and trying to imitate her inimitable handwriting. This I lay on the counter in front of Brittany.

Slowly, nervously, she parts her lids, flinching as I draw my arm back, as if I’d actually hit her inside this house or say anything that could ever be used against me in a court of law. Not that it really matters because Oscar hacked into the Burr’s security system and stopped it from recording temporarily.

Still, it never hurts to be too careful.

“If we call and ask you questions, you answer them.” I level my gaze on Brittany’s and the threat is clear: you belong to us now. Just like Vaughn. Just like Vera. Another person in the swirl of planets and stars that is the city of Springfield. Eventually, every part of this solar system will belong to us. “Don’t make the mistake of upsetting us again. If anything changes with the graduation day plan, we expect to hear it from you first.”

I leave the card where it is and start in the direction of the door, just as the baby begins to cry, his strong voice crackling over the monitor as Brittany stumbles to catch up with me. She follows me all the way to the front door and out, looking past me down the lawn toward where Hael waits in the Camaro.

When I glance back and see her face cracking and shattering into a million pieces, I know that we’ve done the right thing here. Well, it’s certainly a wrong type of thing, but it’s correct for us.

“Hael,” Brittany says, but her voice is soft enough that the sound barely carries to me, let alone to my lover sitting in the Camaro and tapping his palms against the wheel in time to some classic rock song that I can barely hear. I pause briefly, watching tears stream down Brittany’s face before she slams the door and I’m left alone in the sunshine on the Burr’s front lawn.

“Good riddance,” I say, saluting the house with two fingers before I turn back to the Camaro, open the door, and climb inside.

“It’s done?” Hael asks, maintaining his stare out the windshield. I nod my head, leaning over so that I can press a purple-tinted kiss to his cheek. Today’s lip color is called Big Fat Mistake. Sorry, Britt, but you done fucked-up.

“It’s done,” I say, feeling this strange sense of coming full circle from the day Hael and I sat outside a coffee shop and worried about DNA results together. He exhales sharply and then reaches over to curl his fingers through mine. We exchange a look, and his face softens to something caught between shame and affection.

“I’m sorry I’m such a screw-up,” he says, looking me over like he doesn’t deserve me. But he does. They all do, these awful Havoc Boys. We’re just made for each other in a way that’s impossible to explain, a craving that hurts even as it nourishes, that makes me bleed even as I purr with pleasure. Nothing worth having is easy or painless, that much I know for sure. “Seems like I’m always the one bringing the drama.”

“Brittany came in handy,” I tell him honestly. Without her, we wouldn’t know about the graduation day raid. That alone is worth the trouble, although if I could go back in time and keep that bitch from ever touching my lover, I’d do it.

“I suppose she did,” Hael admits, but he still looks troubled, like he thinks he might not be worth all this bullshit. He is. But the only way I can convince him of that is with my actions. Leaning over, I flick my tongue against the corner of his mouth, and he shivers. “Fuck, Blackbird. That mouth of yours … you could sell sand to the desert.”

I smirk at him and press another kiss to his lips before falling back into my seat.

I once read this quote from Scarlett Force in one of her infamous Emma Jean articles, and it’s stuck with me for years. “Loving one person sucks. Like, it’s hard as fuck. You’re always trying to balance the people in your life and wondering if you’re good enough. How could all this love be directed my way? It seems surreal sometimes, but whenever that happens, I just close my eyes and count my fucking blessings. Never look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“What’s on the agenda for today?” I ask as Hael carefully drives out of Brittany’s posh neighborhood, waving briefly at Forrest Burr as he heads past us in his Hummer. I wonder what, if anything, Brittany will tell him? Doesn’t matter. She doesn’t have anything she can use against us but hearsay. Wonder how it’ll go over in the same conversation that Brittany admits to having another possible baby daddy? Thus far, her father hasn’t heard anything but that Hael is the dad.

That should be fun.

“Stopping by to visit Vaughn,” Hael reminds me, and I groan. Just after the shooting, we had our crew drop in to question him about Stacey’s referral slip. As I’d imagined, he’d gotten a call from someone claiming to be Stacey’s father, asking for her to be brought into the office.

Vaughn is too much of a pussy—sorry, weak ball sack—to be of any use to anyone. That fingerless pervert is as neutered as Donald Asher. Regardless, we stop by his place on the way back to Oak Valley, just to see if he has anything interesting to tell us. If Sara Young wonders why we stopped by his place, eh. I’m sure we can find an easy way to explain it away.